Read Online E. Godz by Robert Asprin, Esther Friesner - Free Book Online

especially if she was involved. It wasn't a question of if the manure would hit the
whirlwind, it was a matter of how much, what kind, and when it would ever stop raining
cosmic cowpats.
    In this case, the manure had taken a form whose best description was seldom
associated with manure: beauty. Fiorella, undisputed queen of the largest chain of wiccan
covens in America, was beautiful.
    Peez stared at the life-size photographic cutout of herself that Fiorella had placed
dead center in the window of Ye Cat and Cauldron Booke Shoppe. The witch-queen (as
she always styled herself whenever she appeared on talk shows, usually right around
Halloween) had a body that would not quit, the perfect combination of curves and
concavities, slender but not skinny, voluptuous yet without a single excess ounce of
warm, welcoming flesh. Her summery blond hair fell in a silky cascade down to her hips,
her full, red lips curved upward in a very knowing smile, and her slightly slanted green
eyes seemed to burn with their own inner fire. If you believed in such a thing as body
language, then Fiorella's body was playing an endless loop tape of that great old hit, "I
Can Get Anything I Want From Anyone I Please Because I Look Like This And You
Don't."
    To which Teddy Tumtum would probably add the chorus: Neener, neener, neener.
    Teddy Tumtum wasn't there to add anything. Peez had opted to lock him in the trunk
of her rental car. He'd served his purpose, giving her a crash course in the true history of
Salem and how best to apply that knowledge during her upcoming interview with the
witch-queen. She had to admit, he did have a devious mind, for a stuffed animal, full of
practical insights on human nature. On the other hand, Peez didn't need anyone to tell her
that the person who showed up at a business meeting packing a loaded teddy bear—even
a magically articulate one—had already lost the first through fifteenth rounds of
negotiations.
    She's beautiful, Peez told herself. But I've got something that's better than beauty: I've
got brains. I'm smart, and I'm only going to get smarter as time goes on. Meanwhile, she's
just going to get old and wrinkled and saggy. There's just so much that plastic surgery can
do. She's not going to flummox me. I can take her.
    She drew another centering breath and went into the bookstore.
    A small brass bell above the door chimed sweetly as Peez entered. The shop appeared
to be deserted, which was strange. Peez checked the sign on the front door, but it said
open.
    Maybe she's doing something in the storeroom, Peez thought, glancing at the red and
black bead curtain veiling the doorway behind the counter. She opened her mouth to call
out, but changed her mind. She'd never been very good at knowing what to say under
such circumstances. Yoo-hoo? Helloooo? Hi, it's me? All lame, all guaranteed to make
her feel like a fool. Fools did not win the support of influential clients for a pending
corporate takeover. Not unless they were highly-placed government officials. She
decided to say nothing and simply await Fiorella's inevitable appearance. Meanwhile, she
looked around her.
    The interior of Ye Cat and Cauldron was a comforting blend of dim light and musty
smells. The shelves were laden with a fine selection of books, hardcover and paperback
both, dealing with matters of the occult, though there was an entire section marked off as
Love Spells. A thread of patchouli incense wove its way through the displays of plaster
skulls, crystal balls, and mass-produced Egyptian statuettes of gods, goddesses, cats and
hippos. There was a real cat present—black, of course. He lay stretched out full length
across the top of a glass display case that was crammed with enough silvery ankh
pendants to outfit half the population of suburban Goth wannabees on the Eastern
Seaboard. There was also a cauldron in one corner. It was full of umbrellas.
    "Loaners, in case of a sudden cloudburst," said